The first and most important thing she had to plan was the Excuse.
Everything depended upon the Excuse. One bad excuse could raise unwanted questions. Using one excuse repeatedly, over and over, could draw unwanted attention and focus. The last thing she needed was her husband to make some off-hand comment at a social gathering between friends and coworkers about how she had been worked to the bone with the late hours every night.
It had to be believable. There had to be a plausible explanation for running late. Nothing too elaborate, nothing so complex that depended upon so many components to make it work. Often the simplest of excuses were often the best.
Hobby Shop didn't have a whole lot to choose from, she texted her husband almost as soon as she left the store. Going to try Vivienne's, she texted again.
By the time she pulled the sedan to a stop in the seedy little parking lot, she had already switched the bags of the hobby shops, taking the contents of her purchases from the blank, white plastic bag that came from Hobby Shop, and placing them into blue and white bag with the name Vivienne's that she had plucked from the crevice between her seat and the center console. Pipe cleaners, Popsicle sticks and glitter glue. The essentials for her youngest's school project.
She gave herself a quick and silent look over in the rear-view mirror of the car. Her deft fingers ran through the long blonde tresses as her blue eyes took in the sight of her appearance. Good. Not great. Not the way she occasionally dressed up when she needed a fix, but given the circumstances, the rushed, unexpected opportunity, she looked good enough. With the sunglasses upon her face in the dark of night, she felt ready to go and sate her addiction.
The parking lot was mostly empty. Only a few cars remained in the parking lot. A look at the watch illuminated beneath the neon lights had told her that there wouldn't be much to be found at such a late evening. The afternoon rush was long done and over with for the day, and on a Sunday evening, it would light and quiet. It was by far not the best time to be there, but something was better than nothing.
Her heart was racing, beating furiously in her chest as she crossed the parking lot on foot. Her breaths were growing rapid with excitement as every footstep carried her closer to the building. The shame and guilt she often felt at times, those nasty, incessant feelings that gave her doubts and hesitation were no where to be found that evening. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed to sate herself.
The long weekend had been sheer torture. Staying home with her family, depriving herself of the chance to break free, if only for a short time. She put up with family dinners, suffered through watching movies with her family. Game night. Fucking game night. All she wanted was to get out, to get free, a chance to go off on her own and please the monster that was her addiction. She was a ticking time-bomb, waiting to go off, yearning to explode in hedonistic indulgences.
Just one, she told herself. Just one, and she would be gone. Back in the car, back to the hum-drum life that waited for her at home with her husband and kids. Back home,to think and dream and crave of the next time she could get her fix once again.
She pulled open the heavily tinted window door of the store, immediately surrounded by the familiar sights. The rows of adult DVDs and Blu Rays. Sex toys of every kind and variety. Lubricants of various makes, scents, and flavors. From behind the counter near the door, the heavy-set,bespectacled man looked up from the phone in hand, giving only the slightest of nods to the regular visitor.
She didn't stop to engage in a conversation, nor did she wander about aimlessly through the aisle of merchandise. Both she and the man behind the counter knew why she was there. Both knew why she always came around.
Past the various aisles and racks of untouched movies. Past the displays of vibrators and masturbators. All the way to the back of the store, where the neon-light that simply said Arcade called to her like a beacon. She made her way through the store, and through the curtained partition into the dimly lit hallway, facing the row of doors and booths. The booth immediately in front of her sat unoccupied, it's door open, waiting, beckoning for her to step inside the dark abyss.
The door was closed immediately as she stepped inside, her fingers moving quickly to put in place the locks and latches that provided some sense of security from unwanted guests. On the opposite wall, the screen played some selection menu for various adult titles to choose from. Absently did she reach into the pockets of her jeans, fishing out a couple of dollars to feed the machine before randomly selecting some title to play in the background.
Wordlessly she slipped off her black cardigan, draping it over the back of the cheap chair that, along with a small wastebasket, was the only piece of furniture in the small booth. Sounds of porn, with it's faked moans and cries of pleasure, played from the speakers as she sat herself in the chair, taking a calming, deep breath of the warm air that smelt strongly of Lysol and disinfectant. Her fingers were unbuttoning the jeans she wore loosening the hold upon her body to make it easier to access.
She could have came right there and then. The excitement and arousal was always so high when she entered the booth and made herself comfortable. The slightest touch against her aching clitoris would have been enough to send her over the edge, she did not doubt. Already she was drenched, the moisture of her arousal just barely visible in the gleam of the light of the screen.
But there was a monster inside her. A raging, howling monster caged up so tightly deep within her loins. Frantically did it thrash about, yearning to be free, yearning to be sated. The sound of the heavy, lustful breathing coming from the darkened hole in the wall told her she was not alone in her feelings.
Her slender finger traced the lip of the hole in the wall, running over the smooth surface for but a moment before she moved from the seat and sank down to the tiled floor, inching herself over to the cup-sized hole. Soon she was rewarded by the sight of it, the gradually-inflating member, presented to her for her approval. She didn't hesitate to show her approval of the cock being presented, her warm hand seizing the cock at the base before bringing her lips around it.
It's soft, flesh twitched in approval as it passed the soft plushness of her lips, sinking into the warm, wet mouth. Her tongue greeted it eagerly, swishing back and forth, from one side to the other, slipping beneath the underside to moisten it in it's frenzied action. The groan that came forth from beyond the wall, the very real, distinct groan of pleasure that came not from the speakers of the screen, but from the man attached to the hardened cock, only excited her all the more.
The taste excited her, the saltiness that spoke of sweat and masculinity distinct and intoxicating. The smell of him excited her, that musk of man that was so natural, so visceral in it's pheromonal. arousing nature. But the anonymity excited her most of all. Who was this man she had at her mercy? She wondered as she continued to milk him with the fluid bobs and strokes of her head and lips along his shaft.
Another miserably married person?
Someone just passing through, looking for some quick relief?
It was times like those, as she moaned with delightful passion, sending vibrations from the warm heaven of her mouth through the thick,throbbing piece of meat lodged in the depths of her mouth, that she liked to think of just who the man beyond the wall might be. A neighbor she had seen outside numerous times, washing his car or tending to the lawn. The clerk at the convenience store she bought her coffee and cigarettes from in the morning. One of her oldest's friends.
Her hand slipped down her slender body, pressing beneath the open fly of her pants, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear to rub her wet, aching flesh. One of her eldest son's friends... That was a thought that never ceased to excite her. Her oldest child, and all of his friends, at eighteen years old. She had caught the sight of some of them looking her way, eyeing her up, those unmistakable looks of desire that burned in their eyes. It was a heady thought as her head and hands moved in unison against the thickened shaft coated in her saliva.
The muscles in her throat relaxed, her mind going into that blissful state where she so often lost herself in the moment. More and more of him was taken into her mouth, swallowing him deep into the tightness. He was close. She could feel it, could sense it. Slowly he, this stranger, on the other side of the wall was thrusting himself forward, rocking back and forth. Try as he might to fight it, try as he might to resist coming to the promise land of orgasmic bliss, wanting, as so many did, to stretch out that moment and savor every precious second of being worshiped like a God, he would come, and soon.
Few could last more than a few minutes when she went to work on them.
She had lost count of the number of men she had pleased there. Chances were good that the man on the other side, resisting the urge to come as she milked her with her expert mouth and hand, had came in the past because of her. Whenever she had a chance, a moment in time to herself, where she could sneak away, she did so, coming in search of that desire to live dangerously, to be free and unchained from the burdens of her life at home, of the stresses at work and the demands of being a wife and mother.
Out there, out in the world beyond the booth, she was someone. A mother. A wife. A daughter and sister. A woman who had a good career, who possessed what seemed to be a happy life. Family dinners. Movie and game nights. Football and soccer games for each of her kids.
But in that booth... In that dark little space, she was no one. A person in the shadows. There to please and pleasure, there to be pleased and pleasured. Free from the stresses of life. Free from the burdens of her family life. No worrying and fretting over schedules. No thoughts of what to make for dinner. No worrying over reports at work, no having to deal with the difficulties of life. All of that left behind, left to be dealt with at another time.
There, in that booth, all she had to think of was being in the moment, being consumed by hot and burning flames of lust and arousal. A vessel for pleasure, and only pleasure. Nothing more. Nothing less.
The knock upon the wall was loud and rapid, shattering the thoughts and focus that had taken her away. Her face pressed firmly against the section of flesh exposed through the hole, her nose pushed into the thicket of dark, coarse hair as the thick rod inside her mouth began to explode in hot and furious desire. The groan from the other side of the wall was met with with the thick, heavy spurts of warm semen as his cock tip unleashed uncontrollable spasms.
Greedily, with a real and true hunger, did she swallow every precious drop he had to offer her. The salty seed was taken eagerly down her throat, the taste and feel of the warm, thick, gooey substance like nectar of the Gods. Every drop invaluable. For moments she continued to nurse upon it, savoring the lingering taste, relishing the scent and feel of him between her lips before he ever so slowly pulled away, disappearing into the black depths of the shadows in his booth.
Her lips quivered as she watched him back away, receding into the booth. She wanted more. She craved more. One deposit of semen was never enough. Never was it enough.
But this was not her lunch break at work. This was not one of her days off where, instead of supposed to be at home, she could spend hours there in the booths. This was not the holidays, where, under the pretense of doing holiday shopping, could slip away and enjoy the presents and gifts presented to her through the glory holes.
She dressed quickly. Her hand was removed from between her legs, fingers slick with her wetness buttoned up and zipped up her pants. A part of her hoped for a reason to stay, a part of her desperately clinging to the hope that someone would walk into one of the booths beside her, and give her a reason to stay longer, a reason to stay and feed herself more and more of that intoxicating nectar. And yet, another part spurned her on as she put back on the light cardigan, had forced her to keep her eyes away from the holes on either side of her.
The Excuse she told herself. She had to get home soon. She had to go back to that miserable life because it was her life. Back to putting on the mask of being the good and faithful wife, the loving and devoted mother. Back to the life and lie that was accepted, not looked down upon, not thought of as something shameful and disgusting. Back to the lie that kept her life intact.
Tomorrow, she told herself, as she exited her booth, and slipped out the back exit. Tomorrow she would be back. Tomorrow she would feed herself to her heart's delight.